Dream Talk
At breakfast I scribble in a notebook
questions like:
why do I feel like a duck-billed platypus
has been nibbling at my brain all night?
The I remember
the billabong, the kookaburra
and the ‘jolly swagman’
all of whom
party-crashed my REM-sleep.
I ask: "Did you dream in the night dear?"
“Flamingo.” she says tersely.
After a pause,
“You ran-over my pet flamingo
with that big stupid truck of yours.”
I thoughtfully butter some toast.
“It was the flying monkey’s”
I replied weakly,
“they made me do it”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
